


No Place for a Boy

by Xiaojian



Category: Castlevania: Lords of Shadow, 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Family, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, it's just suspected, no actual child abuse though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-09
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-25 16:37:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6202825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xiaojian/pseuds/Xiaojian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a child in the castle, and the Toy Maker is worried. Especially once he finds out who the little boy's father is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [an ask/answer on bernhard-castle-dracula on Tumblr](http://bernhard-castle-dracula.tumblr.com/post/139953903789/if-the-toy-maker-met-young-trevor-would-he-be). I love their blog so much, and I couldn't resist writing this! (｡’▽’｡)♡

His first thought was that there was a _child_ in the castle.

A real, human child. Not a monster. Not a hallucination. The boy was as real as the Toy Maker’s own two hands, and he could just about cry of happiness.

His second thought was that there was a child in the _castle_.

The Toy Maker knew all too well that the place was a living hell. Being inside the castle walls was a nightmare. It was torture. It was no place for a child. How had this poor young soul ended up trapped within its confines?

“Ah – hello, hello! Welcome to my humble theatre. You’ll have to pardon the mess – I’m still in the process of redecoration.”

The boy smiled, a small and tentative expression. He ambled towards the stage, weaving around the few rebuilt chairs on the floor. The area had been absolutely wrecked during his violent confrontation with the lord of the castle. While the castle was more than willing to imbue his creations with life, it seemed the place didn’t deem proper audience seating a requirement for his theatre, much to his annoyance.

“What’s your name, young man?”

“Trevor,” the boy answered, stopping near the front of the stage to turn and admire the opulence of the theatre.

“Trevor,” the Toy Maker repeated. “A nice name for a nice young man.”

Trevor turned back and began scaling the steps up to the stage. They were far too tall for him, and the Toy Maker stood up and left his workstation, offering the boy a helping hand. Trevor took it gratefully, climbing onto the stage and offering him a hesitant smile. 

“How do you know I’m nice? I could be a nasty monster trying to trick you. Maybe I’m a vampire.” Trevor lunged forward, hissing and holding up his hands like claws.

“Oh?” The Toy Maker laughed. “If you are a vampire, you’re the tiniest vampire I’ve ever seen.”

“You’re not much bigger,” Trevor huffed.

“Ah, but I’m not a vampire, now am I?”

Trevor shrugged. His attention shifted to the work table set towards the back of the stage, the surface littered with evidence of the Toy Maker’s mechanical tinkerings. He walked to it and peered at the contents curiously.

“What are you making?”

“Oh, nothing special. Simply experimenting with a new type of doll.”

Trevor perked up.

“You make dolls?”

“Of all kinds!” The Toy Maker answered. “Do you like dolls?”

Trevor nodded shyly. The Toy Maker frowned as he took a closer look at the boy’s face. There was a deep sadness in Trevor’s dark eyes, something weighing down his features and aging him beyond his years. Harsh, dark circles ringed his eyes, signs of stress that the boy was far too young to be developing.

What did he expect? Life in this hellhole would burden the hardiest adult. A child stood no chance.

“Well, then you’re in the right place.” The Toy Maker reached into a pocket in his coat, rummaging around theatrically for a minute before withdrawing a brightly-painted wooden toy. Trevor’s eyes lit up at the sight.

“What do you think, Trevor? Is this of acceptable quality?”

Trevor nodded, more enthusiastic this time. The Toy Maker affected a frown, scrutinized the doll.

“Hmm…what am I thinking? There’s no way to get a proper review unless the critic has experienced the toy for himself!”

He offered the doll in an outstretched hand. It was a stylized portrayal of a ballerina, the only thing out of the ordinary a pair of angelic wings protruding from her back. Trevor eagerly snatched it up, running his fingers along the notches of the wooden feathers with reverence. 

“Silly me, I’ve become forgetful in my old age. How can you critique one piece of my work without others to compare it to?

With a snap of the Toy Maker’s fingers, the crimson curtain along the back of the stage flew aside, revealing an array of toys, trinkets, and games, ranging from a doll the size of a coin to a puppet the size of a dragon. 

Trevor’s mouth dropped open.

-

“What are you doing in the castle, Trevor?”

Trevor looked up from his work. He was seated on a stool, brushing the stringy hair of a puppet in the shape of a young girl, while a fairy puppet ‘stood’ behind him, attempting (without success) to pull Trevor’s short, scruffy hair into a braid.

“My father is here.” 

Oh dear. The Toy Maker knew there were soldiers who regularly attacked the castle, attempted to take down its prince. None had succeeded, as far as he was aware. And all of them died, sooner or later.

“Is your father a soldier?”

“He was.”

Was?

“I don’t mean to alarm you, but, do you know if your father is still alive?”

Trevor hesitated for a moment, frowning and tilting his head. The puppet behind him made an agitated gesture, giving up and letting go of his hair.

“Yes. He is.”

“Do you know where he is?”

“Yes.”

Trevor certainly wasn’t the most talkative child. The Toy Maker sighed, kneeling beside him. His old bones creaked and protested at the motion.

“Why isn’t he with you? This castle is dangerous. I don’t think your father would want you wandering around alone.”

Trevor turned back to the puppet in front of him.

“Father is very busy. I’ll come to him when he needs me.”

The Toy Maker’s brow furrowed. 

“Trevor, if your father came to the castle to fight the vampire who lives here – ”

“He didn’t.”

“…Oh. Why is he in the castle, then? Did he find himself here on accident?”

Trevor fixed him with a serious stare.

“The castle brought him here. The castle loves him.”

The Toy Maker had no idea what to say to that. He let the conversation end as Trevor turned back and finished his work on the puppet’s hair, lifting the toy brush with a flourish and declaring “Done!”

The puppet whirled around, running stiff wooden fingers through the string. It gave a deep curtsey to Trevor before skipping away. Another puppet, this one in the shape of a mermaid, moved to take its place, but everyone was startled as a cacophony started up outside the theatre. 

The Toy Maker winced. The lord of the castle was fighting with soldiers again. Dracula had shown mercy towards him, but the other denizens of the castle weren’t so lucky. The sounds of violence worried him. He had his puppets to protect him, but he was still only human, and he’d seen all too well what little threat his defenses posed to the vampire. He’d seen Dracula’s moods, heard them spread through the walls of the castle and whispered to him through the mouths of his dolls. He’d been shown mercy once, but ultimately, that meant nothing.

He stood up, struggling against his stiff joints. He held out a hand to Trevor, intending on ushering the boy somewhere safe. Trevor ignored it, hopping off of the stool and turning towards the theatre’s entrance.

“Father needs me.”


	2. Chapter 2

The next time Trevor entered the theatre, it was at a full sprint, his breathing heavy and his eyes wide and terrified.

"What's wrong?" The Toy Maker demanded, startling out of his light nap. He stood, struggling to rise from one of the few remaining seats in the auditorium.

Trevor cowered behind him, pointing to the entryway. The doors had been broken long ago, and the entrance was wide open to the howling winds of the Overlook Tower.

"Monsters," Trevor explained, his voice trembling.

True to his word, the clatter of rotted bones clacking against one another filled the room as a group of bloodied skeletons marched through the tall doorway. The undead monsters banged their swords against their shields in excitement upon seeing two humans in their grasp, producing a deafening clang.

The Toy Maker put a hand on Trevor's shoulder, gave it a gentle squeeze.

"No monsters can get in here," he assured the boy.

 _Unless they're as strong as the lord of the castle_.

The skeletons were not. The one at the head of the group took another step forward, only to freeze in place a moment later, sensing something out of the ordinary. Slowly, it tilted its eyeless skull up towards the high, vaulted ceiling.

The puppet was on them in a flash. A giant, intimidating marionette in the form of a fearsome spider, all fuzzy, spindly limbs and too-many-eyes. The spider snatched all of the skeletons up in its mechanical mouth, its mandibles grinding them to shreds.

Its grisly work finished, the spider was snapped back up to the ceiling by its strings. Back among the colorful paper lanterns that concealed it from the immediate sight of would-be intruders.

Trevor was still shivering, clinging to his ornate coattails. 

"They're gone. Don't worry."

The Toy Maker gently pushed the boy away, leaning down and examining him for any signs of damage. To his dismay, Trevor's hands were scraped in a dozen places, with the fresher cuts still leaking red.

Trevor looked away, embarrassed.

"I fell a lot, running from them. I think I hurt my knee, too."

This wouldn't do. The Toy Maker snapped his fingers, the gesture made quiet and unimpressive by his weathered, dry skin and hands weak with age. Despite that, a small puppet in the shape of an old woman emerged from behind the stage's curtain. It leapt from the stage and hopped to his side, a heavy metal box in its oversized wooden hands.

The Toy Maker guided Trevor to a chair and motioned for him to sit. The puppet opened the box, revealing a sparse collection of medical equipment.

"Let's get you fixed up, shall we?"

The supplies were heaven-knows-how-old, and the thick layer of dust on top of the box made the Toy Maker doubt the safety of the potions inside. He settled for cleaning the wounds as best he could, and wrapping the boy's arms in bandages. Trevor was silent throughout the process, watching him work intently.

"All done," the Toy Maker announced. "Does that feel better?"

Trevor nodded. The Toy Maker handed the bandages back to the puppet, who stowed them away in the ancient box and scurried backstage.

"You know, I've been thinking about something, Trevor. You've just demonstrated a need for - oh, oh, please don't pick at the bandages."

Trevor blushed, shoving his hands under his legs to remove the temptation.

"As I was saying, you've demonstrated a need for that idea."

"What is it?"

"Something you'll require if you're going to be wandering around this castle alone, like an absolute madman. If your father won't protect you - "

"I told you, he's busy."

" - Then you need _someone_ who will. Would you be so kind as to wait while I put the finishing touches on something? It won't take long, and you can play with just about any of the toys here in the meantime."

"You're making something? Can I watch how you do it?"

The Toy Maker smiled. Far be it from him to discourage a child's curious spirit.

-

With one last component hammered into place, his newest pet project was complete. He plucked it from the worktable, presenting it proudly to the boy seated across from him.

"Trevor, meet Humbaba. It will be your bodyguard from now on."

Trevor leaned forward, staring in confusion at the puppet with no visible strings. It was the size of a scarf, and that was what it imitated when the Toy Maker motioned for Trevor to bow his head, and gently draped the toy across his shoulders.

It was a hybrid of monsters - the body of a snake, the hands of a bird of prey, the face of a lion, and the horns of a bull. Humbaba came to life once it was settled around Trevor's neck, wrapping itself to a more comfortable position and giving Trevor a respectful nod of its monstrous head.

He had almost been worried Trevor would be afraid of the creature. That worry vanished when Trevor smiled and gently scratched under Humbaba's chin. The puppet flicked its tail happily.

"If anything tries to hurt you, Humbaba will protect you. If it thumps its tail twice against your chest, cover your ears and close your eyes - that means it's about to blind and deafen your enemies with a fearsome spell. Besides that, just make sure you don't get your arm in the way of the fire it breathes."

Trevor's smile grew wider. He gripped the Toy Maker's hand tightly.

"Thank you."

The Toy Maker scoffed. "It was nothing. You can thank me by being careful. I would prefer you stay somewhere safe, but if you insist on wandering around the castle, keep Humbaba close. And remember, my theatre is always...open to you..."

The Toy Maker trailed off, frowning, as the sounds of violence and bloodshed started up outside the theatre yet again. This time, however, they were getting closer. Angry voices and clanging weapons filled the theatre's entrance hall. The Toy Maker's eyes widened. They almost never got that far, and when they did, it was bad news.

"Trevor, I need you to hide backstage. Get as far back as you can, and stay very, very quiet."

Trevor frowned. "But, I hear my - "

"Please, Trevor, you're in danger. Hide yourself."

Hearing the urgency in the Toy Maker's voice, Trevor reluctantly scurried behind the lavish red curtain.

The battle spilled far enough into the theatre proper to activate the spider trap. It tore apart a group of Brotherhood knights, their dying screams echoing through the room. There was one figure left that the spider hadn't managed to catch - and the Toy Maker's heart sank as a glowing blue sword cleaved the enormous puppet clean in two.

The lord of the castle emerged from the carnage, his chin and neck smothered in blood and his cloak spattered with gore. He began to sheath his sword, then thought better of it, looking suspiciously around the theatre. His eyes fell on the Toy Maker, standing nervously on the edge of the stage. As much as he wanted to hide himself away, the truth was, Dracula _had_ spared him once. That put him in much less danger than Trevor. He didn't want the boy anywhere near the Castle's ruler.

"Old man," Dracula called, stalking towards the stage, "Have you seen a little boy? Green vest, dark hair?"

Oh dear.

"N-not at all, my lord."

Dracula reached the edge of the stage, paused at his answer. The vampire glared up at him, eyes narrowed. His voice was tight, controlled.

"Are you _sure?_ I've searched all over the castle, and I could just swear I heard his voice coming from this very theatre."

"I-I-I'm quite sure, my lord! I would have remembered something as unusual as a child in a p-place such as this."

The Toy Maker didn't miss the way Dracula's hand tightened on his sword.

"If you're hiding him from me, old man..."

"Of c-c-course not!" The Toy Maker exclaimed, resenting the rapidly-rising pitch of his voice. "I don't even know who 'he' is! I'll be sure to tell you if a boy ever c-comes in here, my lord."

Dracula grunted, staring him down for another moment before turning away.

" _He_ is my son. And yes, yes you will."

Oh _dear._


	3. Chapter 3

Trevor emerged from behind the curtain a minute after Dracula had exited the theatre, frowning at the Toy Maker. Humbaba was still curled vigilantly around his neck.

"Why did you lie? You knew exactly where I was."

The Toy Maker sighed. "Trevor, sit down for a moment. We need to talk about something."

Trevor gave him a confused look, but followed him back to the worktable and plopped down on one of the small wooden stools, swinging his legs restlessly.

"I hope you don't need me for too long. Father's looking for me."

"So, that man, he was - is your father the lord of this castle?"

"Mmm-hm." 

The Toy Maker frowned, plucking his glasses from his face to rub at the smudged lenses with the sleeve of his coat.

"I wasn't aware he had a son."

"He wasn't either. Not for a long time."

Trevor stated it as a matter of fact, but his face betrayed a hint of sadness.

"But, he knows now."

Trevor nodded.

The Toy Maker did his best to ease into his next line of questioning gently. "Do you...like being here, with your father?"

"I don't like this castle. It doesn't like me either."

"And your father? What do you think of him?"

Trevor bit his lip. "He's done a lot of bad things. But, that doesn't mean he's a bad person. I know he loves me and mother. And I know he can change."

The Prince of Darkness had a wife, too? There was an entire royal family that the Toy Maker had never known about. He took a deep breath.

"Trevor, has your father ever hurt you?"

Trevor was silent for a long moment.

"Yes. He's hurt mother, too. But, he didn't mean to."

"Trevor - "

"He can change. But he needs my help. And he needs to get out of this place."

The Toy Maker stood, placing firm hands on Trevor's shoulders.

"It's not your job to change your father. That's a duty that should never fall on a child."

Trevor looked up at him, and the Toy Maker noticed tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

"But, this is the only way I can get him back. I don't want to be alone. And neither does father."

Before the Toy Maker could think of a response, he was distracted by the sound of a puppet’s rattling wooden joints. He turned to find the mermaid puppet that had been waiting for Trevor to brush its hair during his first visit approaching him. The mermaid wasn’t one of his chosen few puppets to be imbued with the power of speech, but it got the Toy Maker’s attention with a frantic wave.

“What is it?”

The mermaid hastily pointed toward the front of the theatre, where the two nearly-lifeless halves of his spider puppet lay, soaked by the pool of blood beneath it.

Funny. The Toy Maker didn’t remember there being that much blood on the floor.

His confusion deepened as the pool of blood began to grow, spreading well beyond the spider’s body. Confusion turned to shock as fleshy, blood-slicked tendrils shot out of the ground, clawing at the spider’s limbs and pulling it into the ground.

There were noises coming from the front of the theatre, ominous hisses that the Toy Maker couldn’t quite make out, but that caused Trevor to bolt to his feet, nearly tripping over the stool as he backed away in alarm.

“I – I have to go. Is there another exit?”

“There is one, but it’s – ”

His answer was cut off by a demonic screech. Both he and Trevor covered their ears, stunned by the sudden noise. It came from the spider, now very much alive and…not quite right. It emerged from the pool of blood with an aura of menace it had never had since the Toy Maker finished constructing it. It had been a kind guard – something to protect him and the rest of his puppets, keep them safe. The way it was looking at the Toy Maker now showed no signs of benevolence.

No. Not the Toy Maker. 

Trevor.

_You **won’t** take him away from us…_

The voices seemed to come from everywhere. They spoke as one twisted noise, and Trevor cringed at the sound of it. Without asking the Toy Maker where the exit was, he sprinted backstage. 

The blood followed him. The Toy Maker cried out and fell backwards, crawling away from the gore that raced up the theatre and onto the stage like a living thing. It slipped under the curtain, and the Toy Maker heard a panicked scream.

“Trevor?!”

The boy was yanked back on stage, struggling wildly against the bloody limbs encircling his body. Humbaba attempted to burn the tendrils, but they snatched it up, dragging the puppet to the ground and swallowing it.

_We **told** you not to touch him…he belongs **only** to us!_

The voices were joined by the sound of the newly-revived spider as it let out another deafening shriek. It rushed towards the stage, its gait jagged and startlingly fast. In an instant, the monster was looming over Trevor, its mandibles snapping hungrily. 

The Toy Maker gasped and began to call for his other puppets. He was stopped by a set of spindly limbs wrapping around his body, trapping his arms and covering his mouth with a wooden hand dripping with blood.

The mermaid.

The puppet was small, but it had been imbued with whatever sick power this blood possessed, and the Toy Maker was a frail old man. 

Trevor whimpered as the spider leaned closer, staring him down with its sickening eyes, its jaws dripping blood onto his face. He took a deep breath.

“ _Father!_ ”

The scream was shrill and loud, but there was no response. Dracula must have left their area of the castle by now. 

_We’ve let you corrupt him for **far** too long…don’t worry, child…your father is in good hands._

“You’re – you’re hurting him!” Trevor shouted, throwing a futile kick at the spider’s head. The voices growled, shaking the boy like a ragdoll.

_**We’re** hurting him? We aren’t the ones who **killed** him…we aren’t the ones who want to kill him **again!**_

Trevor squeezed his eyes shut, shook his head against the dizziness clouding his mind. “He doesn’t want to be with you!”

The voices roared, an agonized noise of pure anger.

_**You know nothing about him! Nothing!** _

The spider lunged forward, its mandibles wide open. Trevor shrieked, and The Toy Maker couldn’t bring himself to look.

Instead of agonized screams and sounds of dismemberment, though, a sudden silence filled the room.

“Get. Your hands. Off of my son.”

The Toy Maker turned back to see Dracula blocking the spider’s path to Trevor, his sword embedded firmly in its neck. 

_My prince…don’t you see what he’s **doing** to you? You don’t need him…_

With another slash of his sword, Dracula tore the spider’s head off, snarling. The puppet stumbled back, confused and blinded.

“I will decide who I do and do not ‘need!’ Now let. Him. Go!”

The voices laughed. It was a wretched sound, more of pain than of humor. Nevertheless, the blood slowly released its grip on Trevor, the boy falling to the floorboards of the stage in a graceless heap. 

“Now get out of my sight.”

_But, my prince…_

Dracula’s eyes burned red. “ _Out!_ ”

The blood reluctantly seeped back into the foundations of the castle, muttering pleas for its prince to reconsider all the while. The spider collapsed onto the floor, the life dripping out of it drop by drop. The mermaid fell away from the Toy Maker, dropping onto the stage with a thud. The Toy Maker rushed towards Trevor, but Dracula was already there. 

The vampire knelt down and gathered Trevor into his arms, and the Toy Maker saw something in the Prince of Darkness’s eyes that he never thought he’d see: Concern. He examined his son for injuries in much the same way the Toy Maker had only a couple hours earlier. Not finding any, he pulled Trevor into a crushing hug.

“Don’t worry me like that,” he said, his voice heavy with relief. “You keep running off, even though you know how dangerous this place is.”

Trevor smiled and wrapped an arm around his father’s neck.

“It’s not me you should be worried about. The castle can’t kill me, not anymore.”

“Maybe so, but I still don’t want to see you hurt. You or your mother.”

Trevor pulled back from his father’s embrace.

“You’ve seen mother, recently?”

Dracula nodded. Trevor put a hand on his arm.

“Let’s go, then.”

Dracula’s expression shifted to a sad smile. He closed his eyes. Trevor turned back to the Toy Maker.

“Thank you.”

And with that, both father and son vanished. The Toy Maker was alone once again.

And he needed to redecorate his theatre. Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's never been exactly clear to me what the young version of Trevor _is_ , precisely. He can't be just a hallucination of Dracula's, because he seems to be at least somewhat under Alucard's control, and clearly has some of his memories ("You'll pay for what you did to me and my mother," etc). Personally, I see him as a combination of several things - Dracula's love for Trevor, his wish to be the father to a child he never could be, and Alucard's own manipulations to get him away from the castle.


End file.
